Out of the window, at the top of a lime green, ladder-like structure hung a rusty pulley. It rested there with its face turned away from the sun. A broken laundry line dangled from the pulley, swaying a soft goodbye to summer in the gentle breeze. The midday sun cast a quiet shadow on the little yard below as a young couple emptied out the kiddie pool. The young mother calmly picked up a beach ball that had been roving around the lawn, running away from the first signs of Autumn. The woman gave it a little toss and squeezed both sides and, bending slightly through the low-hung door, went inside.
The slow wind that came in through the window carried a woman's voice, singing almost imperceptibly. She only knew half the words of every other verse. She sung just under her breath but loud enough so she could feel the words wafting up and out from her stomach. On this Sunday the weight of the week was nowhere to be seen and the promise of the impending holiday made the words taste that much sweeter.